


INK - Chris Evans AU

by noodlestark



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America - Freeform, Daddy Kink, F/M, Like maybe, Marvel - Freeform, Plot What Plot, Sebastian Stan - Freeform, Teacher x Student, scarlett johansson - Freeform, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlestark/pseuds/noodlestark
Summary: Mila is a new girl in town. She starts going to her new high school and only after a week they get a new english teacher. And he's, wel... hot..warnings: MATURE CONTENT..*this is fiction ik chris is a real person and i hope he never finds this but i just had to.**chris sweetie if you're reading this pls dont hate me it's an alternative universe version of you k bye





	1. Monday Mornings

The leaves on the trees have been turning yellow and orange and red, I notice as I walk to school. It's a cloudy, yet not a cold day in this town. I need to take my mind off the fact that today is probably going to be a nightmare. I don't know anyone here. We've moved here last week. I'm about to start this year in a school full of strangers.

I mean, I’m already starting the junior year – actually I should be in my senior year of high school but unfortunately my grades last year were pretty bad so I’m retaking this year – there’s absolutely no point in looking for friendships here, since I’ll be here for two years tops, then I’ll leave for college. Like I said, no point.

I awkwardly make it through the school halls, finding the classroom we’re supposed to have the first period in. It’s a normal first day. They make me introduce myself, they tell how many grades we’re supposed to get over the year, blah, blah so on. I don’t even think anyone gives a crap that I’m here.

“Hey, you’re the new one, right?” a voice behind me asks. I turn around on my seat and see a girl with side bangs and choppy layers, dyed pitch black and wearing a ton of eyeliner. She’s wearing an old Avril Lavigne t shirt. I decide I like her. So I nod.

“Mind if I join you?” she asks. We’re in the cafeteria, it’s the lunch break. I shake my head no. _Dammit are you just gonna nod at everything? Say something for god’s sake_. “I’m Stella,” she introduces herself.

“Mila,” I answer quietly. I don’t really like my name. It’s… I don’t know, it’s not that common.

She pretty much provides me with any information that is needed to survive in this school like who to avoid and who to ask for help (not that I remembered any names) and she tells me we’re getting a new teacher for English or something. The previous one doesn’t really matter to me; all of the teachers are “new” as far as I’m considered. She’s really easy to talk to and we spend the rest of the lunch getting to know each other. She tells me she likes to skateboard and edit videos – apparently she has a skateboarding vlog channel or something – and I tell her that I have a cat and that I like to write sometimes. I definitely don’t reveal as much as she does. If we ever get netter friends, maybe I will.

“Uh, I should hurry up,” she says after a while “I have English next period and I don’t know if the new teacher tolerates us being late to class,” she smiles nervously. Yeah, I’m familiar with being late – too familiar actually and it’s not a good thing, I’m the first one to admit.

“Wait, I have English as well. We can go together.” I offer and smile. I hope she doesn’t find me annoying.

She smiles back. “Yes, of course. Come on, I’ll show you to the classroom.”

She walks me through the unfamiliar halls, to the third floor and then she searches for the door number 018. We find it in a minute or so and we enter right away. It’s almost empty, with the exception of a guy with a basketball in his lap that’s currently watching YouTube and doesn’t even notice we’re there.

We sit in the second row, next to each other. I’m really glad Stella’s staying with me but I wonder if she has any other friends around here. Maybe is she new here too? Or does she simply don’t like people? But then again, she wouldn’t be hanging around with me. I don’t ask her about it.

The classroom fills slowly and soon the school bell echoes through the empty, white-and-red-colored halls. As the bell quiets down, the door open and a man walks in. He’s wearing a white dress shirt with a black tie and black jeans. His brown hair is slicked back a little, he has the perfect jawline and - well he’s just overall gorgeous. His shoulder-to-waist ratio is unbelievable and he has eyes in the shade of an ocean on the sunniest day. You can see there’s a little playful spark in them.

He puts some paper’s he’s been holding on the desk – the teacher’s desk – and says to the class “Hi. I’m professor Evans and I’ll be your English teacher this year.” His voice is soft yet a little raspy in the moments, kind of like honey. No one says anything, no one even moves. But then he smiles and the majority of the class smiles back.

I look around, and quite a few girls (and some boys) are staring at him like he’s a gift from the heaven. Well, maybe he is. I turn to Stella and she’s sketching something in her notebook. I elbow her gently. “So, what do you think?”

“Huh?” she looks up to meet my eyes.

“The teacher. _Professor_ Evans.”

“Well, he hasn’t really said anything yet,” she shrugs and goes back to her sketch.

I roll my eyes and glance back at him. He’s logging into the computer. And he’s so pretty while doing it. Did he just? I think he might have just looked at me, straight in the eyes but then back to the computer screen in a second. I must be imagining stuff by now. Freaking hell, Mila, I say to myself, it hasn’t been five minutes and you’re acting like a popular teen from a 2005 movie already. But, I answer to me, he’s just _so_ pretty. I don’t think you quite get it, I remind myself. Gosh, he’s going to be the end of me.


	2. Coffee Stains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things start to happen,,, a little:)  
> someone spills something over someone and this someone gives that someone a spare something to help her out.

Stella and I are sitting on the floor of my room, painting our nails with my old nail polishes. They’re pretty crappy, but it’s fun. I never thought that Stella and I would spend so much time together after just a couple of weeks of knowing each other. She’s really fun to be with and it seems she likes being around me as well.

“We have English class tomorrow,” Stella says innocently.

“So?” I look up at her. I know exactly what she’s implying to, but I’m not giving her the pleasure. Over the past week, she caught me staring at him one too many times. I *maybe* even made a cartoon character of him on the last page of my English book, with pretty blue eyes and all. I know it’s not okay, no need to remind me – Stella is already doing that – but a girl can daydream, right?

“Nothing, nothing,” she still doesn’t look up from her nails “Just saying, so you can remind yourself not to drool over the entire desk again,” she chuckles.

I lightly punch her shoulder “Hey, stop that.” But I fail to hide my smile as well.

 

* * *

 

I was barely alive that one morning, let alone awake. I pulled an all-nighter because I totally forgot about the English test we have today. Stella mentioned it to me last night and I freaked out. Apparently Mr. – no, _professor_ – Evans mentioned it like a week ago but I guess I was focusing on the way his biceps stretched his dress shirt perfectly or how they’d feel beneath the soft touch of my hands. Sorry. I’m 18 and he’s hot. What more do I have to say?

I desperately need a coffee to stay awake, so I run up the stairs to the “snack room” next to the library where students can study during a free period. There’s a vending machine in the corner, and right next to it, my savior for the day – the coffee machine.

I insert a quarter and a small brown cup appears. The machine starts buzzing as it makes me the magical potion for staying awake. I really like coffee, but I don’t drink it that often. I think I can function without it. Today is different though. I can only hope this small cup will fulfill my needs for a few hours.

The machine beeps to tell me I can take my coffee now, so I carefully lift the transparent plastic window and carefully take the hot cup out. I head back towards the stairs as I gently blow into the hot coffee with intention to cool it down a bit. I round a corner and – fuck. _Fuck_. I gasp. Someone bumped into me – I guess neither of us was looking where we were going – and I spilled my coffee all over their _white_ shirt. I look up from the brown stain and see – oh god no – Mr. Evans.

“Mr. Ev- Professor Evans,” I correct myself. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ I don’t even dare to look him in the eyes. What is he going to think of me now? Is he going to hate me and give me bad grades on purpose? Or worse – what if he fails me for the entire semester? Or even entire year?

But luckily, he cut me off before I could say something stupid. “Don’t worry about it. You’re Mila, right? Do you happen to have anything to change in your locker?”

I look at him with confusion on my face “Why?”

He just points to _my_ white shirt – I didn’t even notice I got coffee on me as well. I doubt it’s ever going to come out.

“Um, no, but I can ask around. I can live with a stain tho it’s no big deal.” I say, even though the stain on me is bigger and it was hot for a few minutes, now it’s just getting cold and sticky.

“Come with me,” he says and turns around on his feet. I follow him.

The school is relatively empty; the only people here are mostly teachers and a few students who probably came in early to study. We go to the part of the school I haven’t been to yet. I assume this is where the teachers have their offices. I find out I’m not wrong because in a few minutes we stop at this particular door and he pulls the keys out of his pocket. The little plastic sign reads _‘Prof. Chris Evans’._ He unlocks the door and enters; I just lean on the door frame, not sure what to do.

Chris opens a drawer and roams through it for a bit, then he pulls out a black Guns n’ Roses tour t shirt. He comes back to me “I think it’s going to be okay.” He stretches his arm out for me to take the shirt from his hand and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he wants _me_ to change into it. He wants me to change into _his_ shirt.

“Oh, no, I can’t-“

“Just take it,” he smiles kindly. Is he serious? Just so I won’t have to wear a stain for like, five hours? He _is_ an angel.

I gently take the offered shirt and clutch it in my hands. He starts unbuttoning his stained shirt and steps back to that same drawer. After he shrugs his shirt off, I let out a silent gasp. He glances at me over his shoulder and smirks. His arms are full of tattoos, beautiful pictures drawn with a careful touch. I never thought he was a tattoo guy. He pulls a black button-up out of the drawer when I realize I’m just standing there and staring at him.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom-” I point in the direction of girls restrooms with my thumb and smile awkwardly. I already turn to leave when he calls my name.

“Ms. Matthews, wait!” I stop in my tracks and turn back to see him standing at the door, still not finishing with buttoning the new, clean shirt up. I notice there’s some tattoos on his chest as well. “Don’t… Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? All the… ink, I mean. I’m not sure if a high school teacher is allowed to have such things.” He smiles, but there is concern in his beautiful baby blues.

 _But you’re not a teacher_ , I think to myself, _you’re a professor_. “I won’t.” I assure him. He seems relieved a little. I turn awkwardly and I have to hold myself back from running to the bathroom.

I lock myself in the last stall and put my backpack down. I don’t want to put his precious shirt on the floor or anywhere because I don’t want it to get messy, so I hold it between my knees as I pull my white, stained shirt over my head. I throw it on the floor and take the borrowed shirt. I press it to my face and inhale the scent. I shouldn’t be doing this but oh my god it smells so nice. It smells like vanilla laundry detergent and there’s another nice scent. I guess now I know how he smells like.

When I enter the English classroom, ready to take the test, wearing the nice-smelling shirt and an unzipped hoodie over it, I see Stella is already in her spot, going through her notes one more time.

I sit down next to her “You’re never going to believe what happened.” I tell her as I take a pen out of my bag.

“You’ll tell me all about it, but after the test, okay?” She asks without looking up from her notes.

“But – just smell the shirt, would you?”

She looks at me weirdly and sighs. “Yes. Later.”

She focuses back on studying last minute, even though I know she’s going to get an A for sure. So I smell the shirt myself (again) and sigh as I think about what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms and smell this – just him.

Meanwhile the bell rings and he is in the classroom already. He’s going around putting tests on every desk and when he goes by our desk, I look up and smile at him, but he doesn’t even look at me. I don’t really care, so I keep staring at his backside as he returns to the front of the class.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay guys, when you get your test back you’re free to leave since it’s your last period for the day. We’ll start with the best ones.” He says as we all sit down for our English period the next day. I really hope I did okay.

Stella is in top 5, I think. I knew she was going to get an A, I don’t know why she worries so much all the time. I wait and wait and with time I start to worry because there’s maybe five or six students beside me left in the classroom and I just can’t afford to get an F.

He’s calling names one after another and handing out the papers. Sometimes he comments on a mistake or two but not often.

My assumptions were true, I failed and not just that, my test was the worst of all, since I’m going to be the last one to get it.

“Mila Matthews,” he says and looks up from the papers. He stands up from his desk and slowly makes the few steps to mine and then hands me out the test. “It doesn’t look like you knew what the questions were about at all,” he starts. “I would really like to explain this unit to you. If you have time, of course,” he added quickly.

I slowly nod and swallow nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rly hope you like where this is going lol:)  
> the next chapter gets a bit smutty heheh

**Author's Note:**

> um hi yea i hope you liked it like im not that sure about it but hey, its my first time writing real person fiction and english isnt my first language so you can cut me some slack lol:) comment your thoughts, maybe? i know this isn't much but next chapters are going to be longer (hopefully).  
> love u all, thanks for reading:)


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